


Spark

by SatanDaddy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, BAMF Stiles, Bad Friend Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Bisexual Stiles Stilinski, Boyfriends, Crossover, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Diagon Alley, Dorms, Draco x Stiles, Familiars, Gay Draco Malfoy, Good Draco Malfoy, Hogwarts, Hogwarts Great Hall, Hogwarts House Sorting, Hogwarts Sixth Year, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Oblivious Scott, Ollivanders Wand Shop (Harry Potter), Owls, Potions, Quidditch, Rubeus Hagrid's Hut, Slytherin, Slytherin Common Room, Slytherin Dormitories, Slytherin Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski-centric, The Sorting Hat
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:20:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27399397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SatanDaddy/pseuds/SatanDaddy
Summary: Set when Stiles is 16, and during the Golden Trio's 6th year at Hogwarts.The Nemeton blocked the Ministry's sensors, so he never got a letter to Hogwarts. But when he uses magic, accidentally, it triggers the sensors and he gets a late letter, and he's new to Hogwarts and befriends Harry Potter, Hermione and Ron.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Stiles Stilinski, Harry Potter & Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski & Hermione Granger
Comments: 41
Kudos: 202





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> unedited hehe

**"HEY," HE YELLED** over the roaring rain. He'd just gotten out of his Jeep, but he was already soaked to the bone. Scott was quite the same as he hopped off his motorbike. "Sorry, I had trouble starting the Jeep again. That thing's barely hanging on."

Stiles walked over to where Scott stood.

He didn't say anything, so Stiles continued.

"I couldn't get in touch with Malia or Lydia." He waited for a reply, but Scott remained silent. "Scott?"

Rain toppled down like bullets, and he shivered in the cold.

Droplets of water dripped off his hair as the werewolf looked down, pulling something out of his jacket pocket.

He held it up, and Stiles stared at it blankly.

It was a wrench. _His_ wrench.

"Where'd you get that?" he asked.

"This is yours?" Scott replied, ignoring his question.

Stiles looked to the side, avoiding Scott's eyes. He stepped forward, taking the wrench from Scott, and twisted it in his hand.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

He stared intently at the bloodied tool. "I was going to."

"No, why didn't you tell me when it happened?"

Stiles could feel Scott's gaze burning on him. He reluctantly looked up, shaking his head. "I couldn't."

"You killed him? You killed Donovan?"

Stiles stared at him in disbelief. "Well, he was going to kill my dad. Huh? Was I supposed to just let him?"

"You weren't supposed to do _this_ ," Scott argued. "None of us are."

"You think I had a choice?" he demanded incredulously.

"There's always a choice."

"Yeah, well I can't do what you can do, Scott," he said, voice rising. "I know you wouldn't have done it. You probably would've just figured something out, right?"

"I'd try," Scott replied, and the way he said it made Stiles' blood boil.

"Yeah, because you're Scott McCall! You're the true alpha! Guess what? Not all of us can be true alphas! Some of us have to make mistakes. Some of us have to get our hands a little bloody sometimes. Some of us, are _human!"_

"So you had to kill him?"

Stiles blanched. Was he serious?

"Scott, he was going to kill my dad."

Scott shook his head. "But the way that it happened... there's a point when it's... it's not self- defence anymore!"

"What are you talking about?" Stiles yelled. "I didn't have a choice, Scott!" Scott didn't say anything to that. "You don't even believe me, do you?"

"I want to."

"Okay... then, so, believe me. _Scott_ , say you believe me. Say it. _Say you believe me."_

"Stiles, we can't kill the people we're trying to save," he said, avoiding the question.

Stiles shook his head. _"Say you believe me."_

He took a step forward, but Scott backed away, wary eyes on the wrench.

"We can't kill people!" Scott's eyes glowed red with rage, but it was nothing compared to the seething snake coiling tightly around his stomach. A loud crash sounded behind him, and Stiles whipped around to see the glass from the Jeep window flying through the air in shards.

He stared, shock coursing through him. This had been happening more frequently lately. Little things. Deaton said he needed to get his Spark in control before he hurt someone.

Stiles turned back around to Scott.

But Scott was gone.

***

Stiles stormed up the stairs, emotions a whirlwind. How could Scott do that to him? After all these years, all these problems. How the hell could Scott do this? He slammed his door shut, feeling an urge to kick something, when his heart froze.

Someone was in his room.

He snatched the baseball bat that had been leaning against the wall beside the door and held in front of him.

There was a man, tall and lean, skin wrinkled and pale. He was sitting, unbothered by Stiles' entrance, on his bed. He stared at him with an unwavering calmness, eyes twinkling.

They didn't say anything for a minute, staring in silence, until the man smiled, a kind smile. Stiles lowered his bat slightly. This man didn't seem malicious, and yet he'd broken in.

"You prefer Stiles, correct?" the stranger asked, tilting his head politely.

Stiles raised the bat again. How did he know his name?

"Who are you?" he demanded. "And what are doing in my house?"

The stranger stood. "Dear me, I seem to have forgotten my manners. My name is Albus Dumbledore, but I would like to address me as 'Professor.' And as for why I'm here, I have a proposition that I believe you will be interested in."

Stiles stared. This man was a professor?

"Well, maybe you should have knocked, or maybe emailed, like a _normal_ person, and then maybe I would actually be interested. Now get out, before I call my dad, who, by the way, is the Sheriff."

Dumbledore smiled. "Perhaps I should get straight to the point. I have an inquiry about your magic."

Stiles stiffened.

"Yes, I know about it. I'm also aware the veterinarian calls it a 'spark.' But Stiles, you are a very gifted young man." He paused slightly, allowing Stiles to take in his words. "You're a wizard."

Stiles snorted. "You're crazy."

The man chuckled. "I certainly sound it. But, think about it. This 'spark' should be controllable, and yet you can't. That's because you don't have a _spark._ "

It made sense. It did. But when an old, creepy stranger appeared in his bedroom and told him he was a wizard, he was allowed to have doubts.

The man dug into his pocket, pulling out an envelope. "Take this, and think on it. I do hope you accept."

He placed the envelope on his bed, turned on his heel and was gone with a _snap!_

Stiles was about ready to believe he was mad.

***

In the morning, Stiles woke dazed.

The events of the day before, it was all too much. Scott...

He still couldn't process it. How could Scott possibly do that to him? Not believe him, _accuse_ him without even having the whole story...

Betrayal stabbed at his heart, and it hurt that Scott could be so oblivious, careless.

And _Dumbledore_.

Stiles' eyes jumped to the desk where he'd left the unopened letter.

It was still there.

It hadn't been a dream.

He jumped up, all ounce of sleep drained in an instant.

He tore the letter open, breaking the red seal with a school crest. There were a few papers in it, and he took the first one with newfound interest.

_Dear Mr Stilinski,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall_

_Deputy Headmistress_

It also contained a list of things he'd need to acquire before joining, which included a wand and a _familiar_. He'd read something about those, animal guides or something.

There was also a list of books, all with strange titles, like _A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot,_ or _Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger._

Stiles blanched. This was official, like an actual _school._ He'd never heard of Hogwarts before, and when he searched it up, there were no results.

It was suspicious. But Stiles had always had a knack for trusting the right people, and something about this man was... believable.

It sounded crazy, but he half believed this.

***

It was a Saturday, so Stiles had the day to himself.

He was honestly going to do nothing, but when he returned to his room after fetching a glass of water, he knew it was going to be anything but.

Dumbledore was back.

"Y'know, you're starting to turn into Derek."

The man smiled questioningly. "Have you considered the letter? It _is_ quite unusual for a 16-year-old to receive a letter, but I'm afraid the Ministry's sensors are not entirely fool-proof."

The statement arose new questions, like _what's the ministry?_

The professor noticed his confusion, and elaborated. "The Ministry is like the government, only in the world of magic. And as for the late letter, I've found that the Nemeton- yes, I know about that too- blocked the Ministry's sensors. It is only recently that we were notified about your magic. And it is important that we help you." The man looked like he could say more, but he didn't.

"How do I know I can believe all this? You're a random stranger, talking about schools, and magic, and other worlds. Do you really expect me to believe this all?"

The man chuckled lightheartedly. It would be a strange concept to accept from anything, but I'm aware you are good at knowing who to trust."

Stiles didn't know how the man knew half the things he did, but nevertheless, he was right.

And Stiles did trust this man.

Dumbledore fixed him with a knowing look. "You are interested?"

He was. He had magic, and this was a school _for_ magic. He trusted this man.

Stiles nodded hesitantly.

The man smiled warmly. "I do hope you enjoy your stay at Hogwarts."

***

The next day, Stiles talked to his father. The Sheriff had been filled in on all the Supernatural things, and he seemed to believe the magical side of things too.

**(omg what if claudia was a witch, and thats where stiles got it from, and the sheriff knew about hogwarts the entire time, so he was cool with stiles going? ye ima do that)**

His father was quiet as he told him about the school, and Stiles was surprised at how quickly he believed Dumbledore's story.

So, his father helped him pack his suitcase. He pulled him out of school, telling the principle he was moving to a boarding school, which wasn't exactly a lie.

Dumbledore had given him a letter before disappearing the night before, and it told him someone would arrive in two days to take to _Diagon Alley._ His father told him it was a large shopping area where he could buy all the equipment he'd need for Hogwarts.

So, once they'd finished packing, the sheriff took the day off to spend the day with him, and they went out for lunch.

Stiles was filled with jittery excitement the whole day, and when it was finally time to sleep, it felt impossible. But he must've gotten some as he woke at 7 am.

The whole thing was happening so fast, and Stiles' head was racing to catch up. He was leaving Beacon Hills, to go all the way to _Great Britain._ He'd never even left the state before.

He was leaving the only place he'd ever know, the only friends he'd ever had, and the only home he'd ever belonged to.

He would miss his father, no doubt, but the Pack? Beacon Hills? He was glad to leave, even if just until the Summer.

***


	2. Chapter 2

**IN THE MORNING,** Stiles got up with the sun. He got dressed, made sure all his bags, and his pillow, were by the door. Then, he went to the kitchen and cooked breakfast for him and his father.

He was just serving the bacon and eggs onto plates when his father came down the stairs, hair askew.

"Morning," he said cheerily, passing a plate across the bench to where his father now stood.

"Morning," the Sheriff replied, sitting down. "Excited?"

Stiles nodded enthusiastically.

"Have you invited the Pack over to say goodbye?"

Stiles paused where he was putting toast on a plate. "No, I... already said goodbye."

His father's suspicious gaze lingered on him before he dropped it. "What house are you hoping to be in?" he asked, changing the subject.

Stiles looked up in confusion. "House?"

The sheriff nodded. "Yeah, didn't you know? Hogwarts has four houses, Griffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. They're team houses."

Stiles tilted his head. "How'd you know that?"

A loud knock sounded from the front door before he could reply.

His father got up. "I'll get it."

Stiles busied himself cleaning the breakfast dishes, and when his father came back, he was surprised to see a gigantic, bearded man behind him.

"Stiles, this is Rubeus Hagrid. He'll be taking you to get your school supplies."

"Stiles! Good ter meet yer! Yer can jus' call meh Hagrid." The giant held out his hand, and when Stiles shook it, it was three times the size of his own.

"Hi, Hagrid," he laughed.

"Well, John, we bes' be going. I'll go grab the bags."

Hagrid left, and the Sheriff turned to him. "You mail every week, you hear me?" he ordered, pointing sternly at Stiles.

"Yeah, yeah," Stiles said.

His father wrapped him in a hug. Hagrid returned a minute later.

"Yer ready, Stiles?"

"Yup. Are you sure you're gonna be okay all by yourself, old man?"

The sheriff smirked. "Watch that attitude, son."

Stiles fake gasped, mocking hurt. "Sarcasm isn't an attitude, it's an _art_."

The sheriff scoffed at his son's theatrics. "Get going."

***

Diagon Alley was not what he expected.

There was colour everywhere, in the glittering window displays, promoting spellbooks, and broomsticks, and in the people around them, who were all carrying bags and exciteful goods. Crowds milled around, chatting and laughing and admiring products in the shops. It was lively, and Stiles knew he'd love this place before he'd stepped five feet into the street.

"We'll get yer wand firs', yeah?" Hagrid asked as they walked down the cobbled road.

"Sure!" he replied enthusiastically.

Hagrid led him to an old shop. It's wood was splintered, and the paint peeling. There were two main windows, each with gold letters spelling _Ollivanders_ above them. Hagrid stood to the side of the door. 

"I can' go in there, I won' even fit through the door!" he chuckled. "Yer go on in, Ollivander'll get ye yer wand."

Stiles nodded, pushing the door open with a welcoming chime.

A man behind the counter looked up at the sound from where he was polishing a long, slender piece of wood. "Why, hello, young sir! How may I help you?"

Stiles fiddled with the sleeve of his jacket. "Uh, I'm here for a wand."

The man's eyes filled with curiosity. "You're a little old to be receiving a wand, aren't you? No matter! I'll fix you right up."

The man came around from the counter with a yellow measuring tape, and took a measurement of his height and arms. It was odd, but he was sure a lot of things would be odd in this magical world.

Ollivander disappeared behind a wall, reappearing with a few long rectangular boxes in his arms.

"We'll try these three, and see how they go." Ollivander handed him one, a light colourded one with a rough exterior. "Yew wood and unicorn tail hair core."

Stiles held it warily.

"Go on, wave it around."

Stiles, hesitantly so, obeyed and flicked it to the side. A drawer flung open behind him, flying out of it's socket.

Ollivander hummed in disagreemet, taking the wand and giving him another. "Try this one. Fir wood with a dragon heartstring core."

This wand was dark and smooth. Stiles flicked it, and a vase on the counter shattered.

"No, no, not that either." He took the box he'd placed on the counter, staring at it with great interest. "Unless... 11 inch hazel wood wand, veela hair... Now, what was your name?"

"Stiles," he replied.

"You wouldn't be a Stilinski, would you?"

Stiles gaped. "How did you know that?"

Ollivander shook his head. "My, my... Your mother had a very similar wand; it's quite rare for anyone to recieve a wolf's blood wand. And Claudia was quite rare..."

Stiles stopped listening. His mother? His mother had been a witch?

Then everything began to click.

It was why his father agreed to let him attend Hogwart's so easily. How his father had known about Diagon Alley, about the houses.

His mother had been a witch and his father had known all alone.

Betrayal stung at his heart, but he pushed it down, focusing back on the man in front of him.

"-will be quite an excitement!"

"So, how much will this be?" Stiles asked. He'd gotten money from Dumbledore, who told him it was rightfully his. He'd been confused at first. Now, he wondered if it was his mother's.

"Oh, no. That is on me. Claudia was a bright young woman. The least I can do is give her son a wand. Now, chop chop, I'm sure you have a lot more to be doing than listening to my chin-wagging."

Stiles smiled and thanked him, leaving the shop. Hagrid took him to the rest of the shops he needed to go to, and by the end of their little shopping spree, he had a wand, new robes, and many, many books in his arms.

"Okay," Hagrid said, a large grin on his face. "One more thing ter do. Do yer wan' a familiar?"

"Hell, yeah," he replied eagerly.

***

Eeylops Owl Emporium was the store they ended up going to. Out of the rats, cats, owls and toads, an owl seemed like the best solution.

Hagrid waited for him outside again, and when Stiles was finished, he left with a beautiful snowy owl. **(i just think snowy owls are adorable. its just like hedwig XDD)**

He was tempted to name him R2- D2, **(dont you dare judge me)** but knew how ridiculous that was. He decided to think of a name later **(this means idk what to name him. name suggestions? XD).**

Hagrid was about to take him to book a hotel room when a shout called his name from down the street. **  
**

"Hagrid!" **  
**

They turned, and Stiles saw three teenagers about his age running down the street to meet them.

"Harry, Ron, Hermione!" Hagrid boomed, sweeping the three into a bone-crushing hug. "Good ter see yeh!"

"You too, Hagrid," the boy with glasses replied. His hair was jet black, and when Stiles looked closer, he saw a small scar on his forehead.

"How are you, Hagrid?" the girl asked, bushy brown hair waving in the wind.

"Oh, I'm alrigh'. How was yer Christmas?"

"Mum made those sweaters again..." the red head mumbled exasperatedly.

Hagrid chuckled. "Real nice of her ter do that'."

"Uh, Hagrid?" Stiles asked, awkwardly.

The three newcomers looked to him, only now noticing him.

"Oh!" the girl said. "Hi! What's your name?"

"Stiles," he replied.

The red head made a face at the name, but the girl smiled. "Well, I'm Hermione. That's Harry and Ron. I've never seen you around before..."

"Tha's 'cause Stiles is new. It's his sixth year, but his first year."

Ron scrunched up his face in confusion. "What?"

"I've never been to Hogwarts," Stiles said. "I didn't even know I had magic until a few months ago. But I'm in the sixth year."

Hermione's eyes lit up. "So are we! We can show you around if you'd like?"

Stiles smiled. "That'd be great."

***

Hermione, Harry and Ron took him to an ice cream parlour called Florean Fortescue's. They each ordered and chatted for a while.

Hermione liked books, and research, and Stiles told her he was the same. Ron and Harry were into a sport called Quidditch, and they spent a half hour explaining it to him. Harry, who said he'd been chosen as Quidditch captain, promised to teach him sometime.

Stiles found himself fitting in easily.

When it was finally time to head in, Hagrid showed Stiles to a hotel, conveniently the same one Harry, Hermione, and Ron's family were staying. Stiles booked a room for the night, and Hagrid left him to himself.

Stiles lay in bed, trying and failing, to unpack the events from that day.

_He was a wizard._ And it wasn't some crazy delusion from an old, unhinged man.

It was real. He was a wizard, and his mother had been a witch.

Stiles didn't understand why his father hadn't told him.

With his mind racing a mile a minute, it was a miracle he even fell sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> very fast paced, once again XD and i really tried with hagrids accent XD
> 
> tbh, im not very happy with how this story is turning out. i had a really cool vision, but its always hard to put it down on paper.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a lot of ppl on wattpad wanted the owl to be named roscoe, so roscoe it is.

**"YER ALL RIGHT** , Stiles? Yer very quiet," said Hagrid.

Hagrid and Stiles were in the diner of the Leaky Cauldron, having breakfast.  
  
Stiles had seen a few glimpses of Ron's family, obviously related to him because of the flaming red hair, but they were all in a rush packing upstairs.

Stiles nodded. "Just thinking."

"Abou' wha'?"

Stiles wondered if he should ask Hagrid about his mother. He'd been thinking about her all morning, and he was filled with curiosity.

He decided against it. Hagrid might not even know about her. "Just nervous about being behind. These other kids have had five years of learning, and I haven't even had a day."

Hagrid leaned across the table. Behind the wild beard he wore a very kind smile.

"Don' you worry, Stiles. You'll learn fast enough. I hear yer a fas' learner; you'll be jus' fine. Yeh'll have a great time at Hogwarts -- I did -- still do, 'smatter of fact."

Stiles smiled. "Thanks, Hagrid.

Hagrid tapped his hand friendlily, then pulled out a small slip of paper from his pocket. "Yer ticket fer Hogwarts, " he said, handing it to him. "Don' lose tha'."

Stiles tucked it away safely in his pocket.

As Stiles was finishing his breakfast, Ron and Hermione came down the stairs, a plump woman behind them.

"Ginny!" the woman cried. "Hurry up!"

"Hey, Stiles!" Hermione greeted.

"Hi," Ron said.

"Mum, where's my purse?" A voice yelled from upstairs.

"Check your shopping bags," the woman cried. Then she turned to him. "Hello, dear. You must be Stiles. I'm Mrs Weasley. Sorry about all the ruckus; we're having our last minute scramble."

She shook his hand in two of her own.

"I've been told all about you. Would you and Hagrid like to join us to King's Cross?"

"We'd love ter," Hagrid boomed.

Stiles smiled in agreement.

"Wonderful!" A loud thud sounded upstairs. "Sorry, dear, I must go see what those boys are doing."

She rushed upstairs, yelling "Gorge! Fred! What in the devil's name are you doing?"

Stiles heard a few witty responses and hoped to meet this Fred and George soon.

"Well, Stiles, go grab yer bags and we'll pack 'em in the car."

Stiles went upstairs to his room and grabbed his bags. He only had a suitcase, his owl, and a few shopping bags from Diagon Alley, so it would only take two trips.

He checked his Hogwarts list yet again to make sure he had everything he needed, saw that Roscoe was shut safely in her cage, he began to take his bags downstairs.

There were three cars on the street outside, and Hagrid was already out there loading bags into the trunk.

"Hand me yer bags, Stiles," he said when he saw him.

Stiles did so, then went back upstairs to get Roscoe and his suitcase.

Carrying Roscoe in her cage and his suitcase came to be a chore, especially when the suitcase caught on a corner, and Roscoe squawked indignantly when he jostled her.

"Want a hand?"  
  
Stiles turned at the voice. It was a tall red-head Stiles hadn't met yet.

"Yes, please," Stiles replied thankfully.

"Oi, Fred! C'mere and help!"

Stiles grinned. So _this_ was George.

Fred appeared behind George, and with the twins' help, Stiles' suitcase was taken downstairs.

"Thanks," said Stiles, pushing his hair out of his eyes.

"No problem," George said. "So, are you the Stiles Ron was talking about?"

Stiles smirked. "I'm pretty sure I'm the only Stiles, yeah."

"Did we introduce ourselves? Fred and George Weasley. Little Ronniekins was just telling us you don't know what Quidditch is," Fred said.

"I have an idea now, but I'm new to this whole magic thing."

"That's okay," George said. "Harry was new to it all too, and he's doing fine. Better than Ron," he laughed.

Stiles' smile grew.

"Boys!" Mrs Weasley yelled. "Hurry, we're going to be late!"

***

The Weasleys, Harry, Hermione, Hagrid, and Stiles stooped at the border between platforms nine and ten. Stiles looked around in confusion, scanning each platform. "Where's Platform nine and three quarters?"

Hermione smiled. "You see that wall? It's right through there."

Stiles stared at the wall. "What?"

"Quick, quick, through the barrier," said Mrs. Weasley, who seemed a little flustered by this austere efficiency. "Harry had better go first, with Ron"

"Just watch," Hermione said, nodding to Harry and Ron.

Harry pushed his trolley directly at the solid barrier, Ron following right behind, and a second later he was gone.

Stiles stared, intrigued.

"Stiles, Hermione, you two go next."

"Just believe you can," Hermione assured him.

After Deaton had taught him a few things about Sparks, he was used to believing things.

"I'll see yer at Hogwarts, Stiles!" Hagrid told him cheerily.

"Bye, Hagrid," he waved, and followed Hermione.

Stiles watched Hermione disappear, then he too found himself vanishing through the wall.

Stiles found himself standing on platform nine and three-quarters, where the scarlet Hogwarts Express stood belching steam over the crowd. The Weasleys joined him within seconds.

Mrs Weasley looked suspiciously tearful, and the twins were by her side.

"Don't, Mum, we'll send you loads of owls."

"We'll send you a Hogwarts toilet seat."

"George!"

"Only joking, Mom."

Harry motioned to Stiles to follow him up the platform, looking for an empty compartment, saying Ron and Hermione were needed in the prefect carriage.

The first few carriages were already packed with students, some hanging out of the window to talk to their families, some fighting over seats.

Harry and Stiles pressed on through the crowd until he found an empty compartment near the end of the train. They hauled their bags up onto the rack and placed their owls next to them.

The door of the compartment slid open.

"Hi, Harry!" said a voice behind the door.

"Neville!" said Harry, turning to see the round-faced boy.

"Hello, Harry," said a girl with long hair and large misty eyes, who was just behind Neville.

"Luna, hi, how are you?"

"Very well, thank you," said Luna. She was clutching a magazine to her chest; large letters on the front announced that there was a pair of free 'Spectrespecs' inside. She tilted her head at him curiously. 

"Neville, Luna, this is Stiles. It's his first year, but he's our age."

"Hi," Neville said, giving him a small wave.

"Hey," he said, waving back.

"Hello, Stiles. It's nice to meet you. Just warning you, be careful around the Wrackspurts."

Stiles glanced at Harry warily, unsure of what a wrackspurt was.

Harry smiled and shook his head, shrugging.

Harry leaned out the window to wave to Mrs Weasley, the three sat, and the train pulled out of the station.

***

"Are we still doing DA meetings this year, Harry?" asked Luna, who was examining the glasses she'd gotten from the magazine.

"No point now we've got rid of Umbridge, is there?" said Harry.

Neville looked disappointed. "I liked the DA! I learned loads with you!"

"I enjoyed the meetings too," said Luna placidly. "It was like having friends."

Harry looked at him awkwardly at Luna's statement, and Stiles decided to speak up. "What's the DA?"

"Oh, there was this professor, Professor Umbridge, and she was horrible," Neville supplied. "She wouldn't let us learn any spells, and with You-Know-Who on the loose, we knew we needed some way to defend ourselves."

"So, Harry started a secret spell club, DA, short for Dumbledore's Army."

Stiles nodded slowly. "Who's You-Know-Who?"

Stiles half expected Neville to reply with "You know who," but instead he gaped, wide- eyed.

"You don't know who he is?" Harry asked, surprised. "I mean, I didn't when I first went to Hogwarts, but..."

"What? Who is he?"

"His name's Voldemort."

Stiles saw Neville flinch. 

"He's a Dark wizard, once went to Hogwarts, years ago. He was in Slytherin, and now he's in hiding."

Neville nodded along to Harry's explanation.

"My father is quite worried," Luna added. "He didn't want me to come to Hogwarts this year."

Neville seemed nervous, knee bopping up and down. "What houses are you in?" Stiles asked, hoping to ease Neville's discomfort. 

"Neville, Hermione, Ron, and I are in Gryffindor. Neville, Ron, and I are in the same dormitory."

"And I'm a Ravenclaw," Luna smiled.

"How do you get sorted?" Stiles asked. All the questions he'd been wanted to ask were coming back in a wave, and he hoped to find some answers.

"There's this sorting hat, it'll tell you what house you belong in, and it'll take into consideration what house you _want_ to be in."

"Gryffindor stands for bravery and boldness. Ravenclaw's for wisdom, cleverness, and wit," Neville said.

"Yes," Luna agreed. "Hufflepuff is for the patient, justice, and loyalty."  
  
"And Slytherin is for the ambitious and cunning," Harry finished.

Stiles took a moment to process that. He wondered which house he'd be in. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Neville were in Gryffindor, and it would be good to be with someone he knew, but he was curious about Ravwmclaw too. Or been Slytherin would be interesting.

"So you must know loads of magic already," Stiles said.

"I mean, I guess, but you'll get the hang of it in no time."

"We could teach you some simple spells if you want," Neville suggested.  
  
"Sure!"  
  
While Neville, Luna, and Harry taught Stiles spells like _Lumos_ _,_ and _Accio_ , the train had carried them out of London.

Grassy fields sped by, and blue skies gradually turned darker as time ticked forward.

An hour later, once Stiles had _Lumos_ under raps and _Accio_ well on its way, a loud clattering was heard outside in the corridor and a smiling, dimpled woman slid back their door. "Anything off the cart, dears?"

Harry and Neville leaped to their feet, matching grins on their faces as they went out into the corridor.  
  
Luna dug her nose back into her magazine, and when the boys returned, their arms were full of coloured packages of candy.  
  
"Who's hungry?"

***

"You want to be careful with those," Harry warned when Stiles asked about a certain box of treats.

"Yeah," Neville agreed. "When they say every flavor, they mean every flavor -- you know, you get all the ordinary ones like chocolate and peppermint and marmalade, but then you can get spinach and liver and tripe. Me nan once tried one- never again."

Stiles smirked, picking up a bright red one to test his odds.

His smirk grew as he tasted strawberry.

"Aw, aren't you a lucky bloke," said Neville, making a face at his sprouts flavoured bean.

They had a good time eating the Every Flavor Beans. After a while of eating candy, Hermione appeared at the door, dressed in black robes with a red and yellow tie.

"You'd better hurry up and put your robes on, we're nearly there."  
  
As if on cue, a voice echoed through the train: "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately."

"Thanks, Hermione," Neville said.

She smiled and left with a wave.

Stiles' robes we're just black and white, yet to have a coloured tie like the others already sorted.

Harry and Neville had red and gold, and Luna had red and yellow.  
  
Stiles' stomach twisted with nerves as the train slowed down and finally stopped.

Crowds of students pushed their way toward the door and out on to a tiny, dark platform.

He saw a lantern bobbing up and down in someone's hand, and saw Hagrid's bearded face illuminated by the light. "Firs' years!" He yelled. "Firs' years over here!"

Hagrid's big hairy face beamed over the sea of heads. He waved to them, then turned and led the first years away.

Stiles turnd and followed Harry to the large castle, taking in the view and filling with excitement with every step.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Grammarly is my one and only editor, so sorry for mistakes.
> 
> Just a note, this story won't completely follow the events of Half- Blood Prince. I'll just see how everything goes XDD


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really really really hate this chapter. I will probably end up rewriting it.
> 
> Nevertheless, eNjOy

**THE LARGE WOODEN** doors of Hogwarts swung open, casting the sixth years in soft, warm light. A tall, stern-looking witch in emerald-green robes stood in the doorway.

"That's Professor McGonagall," Harry whispered in his ear. "She's strict, but one of the best teachers we've got."

"Welcome back to Hogwarts," said Professor McGonagall. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly. The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes, so make sure you find a seat before then."

They followed Professor McGonagall across the stone floor. Stiles could hear the faint sound of talking and laughter from down the hall, where two double doors stood, light filtering through the gap between them.

The Professor stopped in front of the door, turning to scan the crowd until her eyes found him. "I will need to speak with Mr Stilinski, but the rest of you may go and find your seats."

Harry waved to him and followed Luna and Neville into the hall.

Stiles could see four large tables, each with a coloured banner above them. The Hall was packed with students, and at the end was a long table with other teachers.

The doors shut again when the others had filed in, and his attention was drawn back to Professor McGonagall as she took out her wand and flicked it, as if she was shooing off a fly.

A hat appeared out of nowhere, patched and frayed. It was still for a moment, then twitched, a rip opening at it's rim to open wide like a mouth.

"Hello, Professor McGonagall!" is said, yawning widely.

"Yes, yes, hello," she replied, before turning to him. "Now, this is the Sorting Hat. It will tell you what house you belong in.

"It would be strange to have a 16 year old being sorted with the first years, and I thought I ought to save you the embarrassment."

He nodded, thankful for the consideration.

The Professor placed the hat on his head, and he was surprised to hear the voice in his ear.

"Hmm," said a small voice. "Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind either. Cunning, too... There's talent, yes -- and a great deal of loyalty-- now that's interesting... So where shall I put you?" **_(lmao i used a lot of the dialogue from harry's sorting oop)_**

Stiles remained silent, unsure of what house he even _wanted_ to be in.

"Unsure, ey?" The Hat said, as if reading his mind. "Well, no matter. I know exactly where to put you."

Stiles held his breath, waiting as the Hat took it's time.

"Slytherin!"

Stiles smiled. Slytherin. He didn't know much about this house, only that it was for the cunning and ambitious.

And even though none of the people he'd met so far were in Slytherin, he knew he'd make new friends, too.

The hat was lifted off his head, and became quite still again.

The Professor stared at him with a look he couldn't distinguish, and if he wasn't mistaken, he could've sworn she mumbled _'just like his mother'_ under her breath.

She waved him inside before he had time to dwell on this.

Stiles had never seen such a strange place. It was lit by thousands of candles that floated in midair over the preset tables with silver plates, goblets, and cutlery.

The ceiling, however, is what confused him the most.

That was because there was no ceiling at all. Or at least there didn't seem to be.

There was a dark blue sky, spotted with lights of millions of flickering stars, resembling the sky outside.

He wondered how they did it.

He could see the High Table properly now. At the end on the left sat Hagrid, who caught his eye and gave him the thumbs up. Stiles waved.

In the center of the High Table, in a large gold chair,was Albus Dumbledore.

Stiles saw Harry, Neville, Ron, and Hermione at the Gryffindor table, where Harry was waving him over.

McGonagall pointed to the table on the fat left, however, and Stiles sent Harry an apologetic smile as he walked over to it. If he wasn't mistaken, Harry looked upset.

He found an empty spot next to a pale, blonde boy about his age, and when he sat down, a girl across from him shot him a shocked stare, as if he shouldn't have sat there.

The blonde boy turned as he sat, narrowed eyes bearing into him. Then he tilted his head.

"Who're you?" he asked. "I've never seen you before."

Stiles smiled slightly. "I'm Stiles. It's my first year."

"Aren't you a little old to be a first year?"

He shook his head. "I'm in sixth year, it's just... complicated."

The boy stared at him a little longer, before holding out his hand. "Draco. Draco Malfoy."

Stiles took it. "Stiles Stilinski."

The girl across the table spoke up. "Stilinski?" She asked. "That sounds familiar..."

Stiles couldn't fathom why, but everyone's attention was taken to the Hall doors, where Professor McGonagall was leading a line of children up to the front of the Hall.

"They're the first years," Draco said carelessly. "They'll be sorted."

***  
When the first years had all been sorting, each house gaining plenty of newbies, (hehe) Dumbledore got to his feet, smiling widely.

"Ah, the Sorting. What a wonderful ceremony to start the term with. Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts!" Everybody clapped and cheered. "Please dig in, I hear the menu is a delight tody!"

Stiles furrowed his eyebrows. Dig in? There wasn't any food on any of the tables.

Then, his eyes widened.

The bare tables were suddenly filled, each platter piled with as much as it could fit.

Everyone but the first years had already begun to dig in, acting unsurprised.

Draco, who had already piled meat and vegetables onto his plate, saw his shock. "You'll get used to it."

He smiled and began to fill his plate.

Once everyone had finished their plates, some finishing seconds, the dishes disappeared, leaving the tables quite bare again.

And then, in an instant, they returned with dessert.  
  
Everyone tucked in.

When the dessert too, was eaten, the plates once again disappeared, and Professor Dumbledore got to his feet once again.

"Just a few start-of-term notices to give you now we are all fed. First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well."

Dumbledore's twinkling eyes flashed towards the Weasley twins.

Stiles smirked. Of course.  
  
"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch."

"You should try out," Draco hissed in his ear.

Quidditch did sound fun, and he hoped it would be better than lacrosse.

He nodded. "Sure."

Dumbledore smiled at them all. "That will be all for now, please follow your prefects and make your way to your house dormitories." 

Draco nudged him with his elbow. "That's me," he said, wiggling an eyebrow.

Draco got up, and one by one, others did too. The Slytherins followed Draco, who led them out of the hall and down a set of concrete stairs.

Stiles was shocked to find the pictures moving drowsily around their frames.  
  
They stopped in front of a bare stretch of stone wall.

Draco cleared his throat, before saying 'pure-blood.' Stiles would've questioned it if the wall hadn't suddenly separated, revealing a dark passageway.

Draco walked in, and they followed suit.

The common room was a large, dungeon-like room, with greenish lamps and chairs. This dungeon extends partway under the lake, giving the light in the room a green tinge.

Through the thick glass windows, Stiles could see water, giving the light in the room a green tinge.

"The common room extends under the lake," Draco told him.

Draco directed the girls through one door, and the boys through another.

"Stiles," Draco said, waving him over. "You're in our dorm."

At the top of a spiral staircase Draco led him through a door. Five four-poster beds hung with dark green, silk curtains. Their trunks suitcases had already been brought up.

Draco pointed to one on the left. "That ones yours." The door opened again, and four boys walked in.

Draco introduced them as Blaise Zabini,Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, and Theodore Nott, and then they each went to bed, ready for the next day.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh yeah i think ima rewrite


	5. Chapter 5

**STILES WOKE EARLY** **,** earlier than his new roommates, and earlier than the sun had even risen. He knew, despite this, that he wouldn't be falling back asleep anytime soon.

The previous day had been filled with excitement, and he was eager to start this day too.

Stiles silently threw off his sheets, climbing out of bed. Draco was still asleep, his pale skin practically glowing in the darkness.

He quickly checked his timetable that Draco had given him. 

_Potions_ _-_ _Professor_ _Slughorn_

 _Defence Against The Dark_ _Arts-_ _Professor_ _Snape_

_Charms-_ _Professor_ _Flitwick_

Stiles placed the schedule back in his dresser drawer. He moved to the window, where the ledge was, and took a seat on the green, silk plush, watching the world outside.

The moon hung high in the sky, full and bright. Stiles briefly wondered how Beacon Hills was holding up, but he pushed the thoughts away. Scott would protect everyone just fine. And if he couldn't, the Pack would be there to help.

He was never needed there, anywhere.

The small cabin that Stiles knew belonged to Hagrid could be seen near the forest, a visible billow of smoke floating from the chimney. The windows were filled with warm orange light, and he could see a black shadow moving through them. He was awake.

Stiles considered sneaking out and visiting the groundskeeper, but decided against it. He didn't want to get in trouble on his first day, especially with Hagrid.

He settled on passing the time by counting shooting stars and the owls that flew by.

"What the hell are you doing up?" Draco's indignant whisper was barely audible.

He turned, offering a smile. "Couldn't sleep."

Draco threw an arm over his face, groaning. "Too early," he grumbled into his elbow, rolling over.

Stiles smirked, turning back to the window.

When Draco finally got up, and the other boys woke, they all changed from their pajamas to their robes.

Stiles' once black and white set of robes was now detailed with a green and white tie and dark green underside.

Draco led him back down the stairs and to the Great Hall for breakfast.

There were crowds walking through the halls already, and when they made it to the hall, several people were already seated at their tables. At the Gryffindor table, Stiles could see Ron stuffing himself full, and Hermione watching with a look of disgust.

Stiles and Draco made their way to the Slytherin table. Stiles could feel the eyes of others following him, and he grimaced. Didn't they have anything better to do than stare at the new kid?

After a breakfast of bacon, eggs and toast, the school gathered their books and timetables and set off for the day. Draco gave him a mini tour as they went to their first class, Potions. He pointed out the courtyard that could be seen through an archway, and the lake that their common room resided beneath. There was a large library, Prefect's bathroom, "for Prefects and Prefects only," (Draco seemed very happy to share this information) and even an astronomy tower.

The most extraordinary thing Stiles found, was the stairs. The _moving_ stairs. Each and every set of stairs moved, gliding to an entirely different door that you had been going to. Draco seemed quite frustrated when the stairs changed, taking them to the opposite side of the castle.

When they finally did, however, make it to their classroom, the class had already arrived, and were being taught by an old, balding man.

They entered, and all eyes were on them. Stiles could see Harry, Ron, and Hermione, who he hadn't talked to since being sorted. 

He waved slightly, receiving a happy wave back from Hermione, a stiff one from Harry, and none from Ron. He dropped his hand at Harry and Ron's reactions. Had he done something wrong?

The teacher, unbothered by their interruption, introduced himself as Professor Slughorn and told them to grab and take a seat at a table.

Conveniently, the only empty spots were at Hermione's table.

Draco scowled, but followed him to a seat, and the professor continued with his lesson jovially.

The table they now sat at was beside a cauldron, one bubbling with a potion. It smelt oddly familiar to Lydia's expensive perfume. there was also a mix of something else... something familiar, but he couldn't quite place it.

"Now then," said Slughorn, who moved to stand at the front desk. "Scales out, everyone, and potion kits, and don't forget your copies of Advanced Potion-Making..."

"Sir?" said Harry, raising his hand.

"Harry, m'boy?"

"I haven't got a book or scales or anything — nor's Ron — we didn't realize we'd be able to do the N.E.W.T., you see —"

Stiles didn't know what a 'Newt' was, other than a lizard and a blonde boy in a movie, but decided to ask later. **(** **AHAHAHAHA** **SEE?** **SEEEEE** **?)**

"Ah, yes, Professor McGonagall did mention...not to worry, my dear boy, not to worry at all. You can use ingredients from the store cupboard today, and I'm sure we can lend you some scales, and we've got a small stock of old books here, they'll do until you can write to Flourish and Blotts..." Slughorn strode over to a corner cupboard and, after a moment's foraging, emerged with two very battered-looking copies of Advanced Potion-Making, the same one Stiles had bought at Diagonal Alley.

"Now then," said Slughorn, after handing Harry and Ron a book and returning to the front of the class, "I've prepared a few potions for you to have a look at, just out of interest, you know. These are the kind of thing you ought to be able to make after completing your N.E.W.T.s. You ought to have heard of 'em, even if you haven't made 'em yet. Anyone tell me what this one is?"

He indicated the cauldron on the opposite side of the room. Stiles sat up straighter to see it.

Hermione's hand shot up before anybody else's. The Professor nodded at her.

"It's Veritaserum, a colorless, odorless potion that forces the drinker to tell the truth," she answered smoothly.

"Very good, very good!" said Slughorn happily. "Now," he continued, pointing at the cauldron beside the front desk, "this one here is pretty well known...Featured in a few Ministry leaflets lately too...Who can —?"

Hermione's hand was up once more.

"lt's Polyjuice Potion, sir," she said.

"Excellent, excellent! Now, this one here...yes, my dear?" said Slughorn, moving to the potion Stiles had smelt earlier, looking amused as Hermione answered again.

"It's Amortentia!"

"It is indeed. It seems almost foolish to ask," said Slughorn, impressed, "but I assume you know what it does?"

"It's the most powerful love potion in the world!" said Hermione.

"Quite right! You recognized it, I suppose, by its distinctive mother-of-pearl sheen?"

"And the steam rising in characteristic spirals," said Hermione enthusiastically, "and it's supposed to smell differently to each of according to what attracts us, and I can smell freshly mown grass and new parchment and-" Hermione stopped abruptly, turning pink.

"May I ask your name, my dear?" said Slughorn, ignoring her embarrassment. 

"Hermione Granger, sir."

"Granger? Granger? Can you possibly be related to Hector Dagworth-Granger, who founded the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers?"

"No. I don't think so, sir. I'm Muggle-born, you see."

Malfoy sniggered beside him, and he had no idea why.

"Well, take twenty well-earned points for Gryffindor, Miss Granger," said Slughorn.

"Amortentia doesn't really create love, of course," Slughorn explained, "It is impossible to manufacture or imitate love. No, this will simply cause a powerful infatuation or obsession. It is probably the most dangerous and powerful potion in this room. When you have seen as much of life as I have, you will not underestimate the power of obsessive love."

"And now," said Slughorn, "it is time for us to start work."

"Sir, you haven't told us what's in this one," said a boy on the next table over, pointing at a small black cauldron standing on Slughorn's desk.

"Oho," said Slughorn again. Stiles suspected Slughorn hadn't really forgotten the potion at all, but had waited to be asked for dramatic effect. "Yes. That. Well, that one, ladies and gentlemen, is a most curious little potion called Felix Felicis. I take it," he turned to look at Hermione, "that you know what Felix Felicis does, Miss Granger?"

"It's liquid luck," said Hermione excitedly. "It makes you lucky!"

"Quite right, take another ten points for Gryffindor. Yes, it's a funny little potion, Felix Felicis," said Slughorn. "Desperately tricky to make, and disastrous to get wrong. However, if brewed correctly, as this has been, you will find that all your endeavors tend to succeed...at least until the effects wear off."

"Why don't people drink it all the time, sir?" said another boy eagerly.

"Because if taken in excess, it causes giddiness, recklessness, and dangerous overconfidence," said Slughorn. "Too much of a good thing, you know...highly toxic in large quantities. But taken sparingly, and very occasionally..."

"Have you ever taken it, sir?" asked a girl with great interest.

"Twice in my life," said Slughorn. "Once when I was twenty-four, once when I was fifty-seven. Two tablespoonfuls taken with breakfast. Two perfect days." He gazed dreamily into the distance.

"And that," said Slughorn, snapping back into reality, "is what I shall be offering as a prize in this lesson."

Everyone sat up straighter, clearly keen on winning this prize.

"One tiny bottle of Felix Felicis," said Slughorn, retrieving a small vial from his pocket, "is enough for twelve hours' luck. From dawn till dusk, you will be lucky in everything you attempt."

"Now, I must give you warning that Felix Felicis is a banned substance in organized competitions...sporting events, for instance, examinations, or elections. So the winner is to use it on an ordinary day only...and watch how that ordinary day becomes extraordinary!"

"So," said Slughorn, suddenly brisk, "how are you to win this fabulous prize? Well, by turning to page ten of Advanced Potion Making. We have a little over an hour left to us, which should be time for you to make a decent attempt at the Draught of Living Death. I know it is more complex than anything you have attempted before, and I do not expect a perfect potion from anybody. The person who does best, however, will win little Felix here. Off you go!"

Everyone was out of their seats, dragging their cauldrons towards them.  
  
Stiles took out his Advanced Potion Making book, flicking through the pages for the draught.

Draco was dong the same, looking quite eager.

They grabbed their ingredients from the cupboard. Malfoy began cutting up Valerian roots as fast as he could, and Stiles took a second to catch up.

He'd never made a potion before, and Hermione, despite also wanting to win the prize, stopped every now and then to give him pointers.

Hermione, seemed to have progressed furthest than anyone in the class, and Stiles wondered how quick she and Lydia would become friends.

Across the table, Ron was cursing under his breath; his potion bubbling.

Harry's seemed to be progressing fast, as well, his potion turning the pale pink that the textbook described.

"And time's...up!" Announced Slughorn. "Stop stirring, please!"

The Professor stalked through the class, examining each and every cauldron. He nodded at Draco's, deeming it acceptable, and looked like he wanted to laugh at Ron's.

Hermione's potion he gave an approving nod, and at Stiles', he seemed quite impressed.

"Isn't this your first day?" He asked, squinting at the contents of his cauldron.  
  
"Yes, sir," he replied.

"What's your name?"

"Stiles. Stiles Stilinski."

His eyes widened. "Stilinski?" He exclaimed. "As in _Claudia_ Stilinski?"

Stiles froze. Draco looked at him curiously.

"Yes... You know her?"

"Why, if course! Claudia was one of the most talented witch I ever met!"

Stiles didn't reply. So his mother _had_ been a witch?

Slughorn had already moved on to Harry, his face filling with delight.

"The clear winner!" he cried. "Excellent, excellent, Harry! Good lord, it's clear you've inherited your mother's talent. She was a dab hand at Potions, Lily was! Here you are, then, here you are — one bottle of Felix Felicis, as promised, and use it well!"

Harry slipped the tiny bottle of golden liquid into his inner pocket, and Stiles saw the disappointed looks of the class following it.

"How did you do that?" he heard Ron whisper to Harry as they left the dungeon.

"Got lucky, I suppose," said Harry.

***

_**Next** _ _**chapter** _ _**will** _ _**take** _ _**place** _ _**directly** _ _**after** _ _**this** _ _**chapter** _ _**,** _ _**their** _ _**next** _ _**class** _ _**,** _ _**DADA** _ _**with** _ _**Snape** _ _**.** _

_**Hope** _ _**this** _ _**wasn't** _ _**too** _ _**bad** _ _**hehe** _


	6. Chapter 6

**DRACO AND STILES** took a seat at the back of the DADA classroom. Hermione, Harry, and Ron were on the opposite side, and he could just make out Hermione scolding Ron, saying free periods were 'for studying not _relaxing_ _.'_

The classroom door behind them opened, and a man with shoulder-length, greasy hair stepped into the room, face set in a scowl.

Silence fell over the class immediately, and Stiles had a sinking feeling that this teacher would not be as kind as the last.

He said not a word, instead opting to stalk through the gap between the desks, slowly, making the tension in the room increase.

"I have not asked you to take out your books," he spoke.

Hermione hastily shoved her copy of Confronting the Faceless into her book bag. "I wish to speak to you, and I want your fullest attention."

"He's Snape," Draco whispered when Stiles turned to him, "he's the best."

Snape glowered at them, and Stiles highly doubted this.

"You have had five teachers in this subject so far, I believe."

Stiles would have been surprised, if he too had not experienced many teachers in one subject. Especially since half of his had been killed or turned out to be homicidal supernatural maniacs.  
  
"Naturally, these teachers will all have had their own methods and priorities. Given this confusion I am surprised so many of you scraped an O.W.L. in this subject. I shall be even more surprised if all of you manage to keep up with the N.E.W.T. work, which will be more advanced."

Stiles made a mental note to ask Draco what O.W.L and N.E.W.T meant once they were at least a mile away from the gloomy, greasy being that stood before them.

"The Dark Arts," said Snape, "are many, varied, ever-changing, and eternal. Fighting them is like fighting a many-headed monster, which, each time a neck is severed, sprouts a head even fiercer and cleverer than before. You are fighting that which is unfixed, mutating, indestructible."

Stiles grimaced. The man was speaking about dark arts in an almost loving way, and Stiles was certain this Professor would not be his favourite.  
  
"Your defenses," Snape continued, louder, "must therefore be as flexible and inventive as the arts you seek to undo. These pictures" - he waved to frames hanging on the walls, all portraying someone in pain, or fearful - "give a fair representation of what happens to those who suffer, for instance, the Cruciatus Curse" - he gestured to a witch who was clearly crying in agony - "feel the Dementor's Kiss" - a wizard slumped against a wall, eyes wide and glassy - "or provoke the aggression of the Inferius" - a bloody mass upon the ground ground.

"Has an Inferius been seen, then?" said a girl asked in a high pitched voice. "Is it definite, is he using them?"

"The Dark Lord has used Inferi in the past," said Snape, "which means you would be well- advised to assume he might use them again. Now, you are, I believe, complete novices in the use of nonverbal spells. What is the advantage of a nonverbal spell?"

Hermione's hand shot into the air. "Very well - Miss Granger?"

"Your adversary has no warning about what kind of magic you're about to perform," said Hermione, "which gives you a split-second advantage."

"An answer copied almost word for word from The Standard Book of Spells, Grade Six," said Snape dismissively, "but correct in essentials. Yes, those who progress in using magic without shouting incantations gain an element of surprise in their spell- casting. Not all wizards can do this, of course; it is a question of concentration and mind power which some" - Stiles noticed Snape's eyes linger maliciously on Harry - "lack."

Stiles definitely didn't like this Professor.

"You will now divide," Snape went on, "into pairs. One partner will attempt to jinx the other without speaking. The other will attempt to repel the jinx in equal silence. Carry on."

The class all got to their feet, and Draco taught Stiles a jinx to use. Stiles didn't know how he was supposed to do this right, let alone using a _nonverbal_ spell.

He hadn't even been here a day.

Snape seemed to read his mind, appearing behind him. "Mr Stilinski, I do understand this is your first day. I will understand if you cannot perfect this skill, but your late arrival to this school will not be a tolerable excuse to fall behind in my class. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir," he replied stiffly.

Snape nodded. "Try to focus on the spell when targeting someone, do not let your mind wonder,"he drawled, watching expectantly.

Stiles lifted his wand, nervously. Draco nodded, ready, and Stiles flicked his wand, focusing on the jinx.

Draco wordlessly blocked whatever he'd thrown, but Snape seemed to accept it, nodding approvingly. Then he was gone, criticizing someone else.

Not too long after, Hermione had successfully repelled Neville's Jelly-Legs Jinx without a word. Snape barely looked up from where he watched Ron's feeble attempts at his own jinx. 

Ron, who was supposed to be jinxing Harry, waving his wand in a certain motion repeatedly, eyes straining on his wand. Nothing happened.

"Pathetic, Weasley," said Snape, after a minute of Ron's futile attempts. "Here — let me show you —"

Stiles turned back to Draco in favor of practicing his jinx. His spell seemed just as feeble as Ron's and Draco shrugged. 

"Don't be too deterred. It's your first day. We can practice in the common room, or the courtyard." 

Stiles smiled appreciatively. Draco was strange. He didn't quite understand. He could be blunt, rude to others like Harry, but right now, he seemed just as nice as the next guy.

The rest of the lesson was spent trying to learn a shielding spell, and actually use it against Draco's spells.

In the end, he'd managed to half-shield himself, the spell working for a second before crumbling.

Draco said it was good progress, and then the lesson was over.

***

_**bit of a short chapter, I'll work on the next soon <333** _


	7. Chapter 7

**THEY SPENT THEIR** free periods in the common room, Draco teaching him spells and other basic knowledge that would come in handy in the year.

He still had a _lot_ to catch up on, but Draco assured Stiles he'd help him until he was caught up on it all.

They went to dinner after a long session of spells, and Stiles found himself starving. Draco seemed famished to, as he filled his place generously.

A girl, Pansy Parkinson, sat across from them, complaining about the 'unfair pointing system' for the whole of the Feast.

"You know what, everybody continues endlessly about how Snape is continually giving out points to the Slytherins, however I don't see any other individual offering points to Slytherin. What's more, everyone helpfully _fails_ to remember that the most glaring articulation of partiality this school has ever observed came from Dumbledore when he overwhelmed Gryffindor with focuses ultimately. That man is chilling. He couldn't care less about anything aside from whatever game he's been playing since Potter appeared. It began being helpful again to paint Slytherin as the adversary, so he won't let us win anything any longer. He's two strides in front of us all, I vow to God. In the event that I could simply get into his office for a second, I'll-"

"Pansy," Draco hissed, effectively shutting her up.

Stiles agreed she'd definitely gone too far with her whole rant, but he wasn't sure if Draco had stopped her because she was annoying him or to stop her saying something she'd regret.

Pansy huffed, standing up quickly. "I thought _you_ of all people would actually care, Draco. Guess this new ruffian's making you soft?"

It was a horrible insult in Stiles' opinion.

Draco scowled, moving to stand, but Stiles grabbed the sleeve of his robe, knowing this wouldn't end well if he fought back.

People were starting to stare, whispering behind their hands.

Pansy's nose flared, and she stormed off, out the Hall.

If anyone hadn't noticed her disruption, they had now.

Stiles blew out a breath. "Well, that was a conglomerate of awful."

***

They attended their Tuesday classes; Herbology, Potions, and Charms. Herbology was quite uneventful, and definitely wasn't Stiles' favorite class. It was no where near as exciting as Charms, where he learnt even more spells from a small, squeaky Professor who spent the lesson perched on top of a pile of books.

Unsurprisingly, Hermione was the top of that class too. She nailed every spell in a matter of minutes, gaining more and more points for her house.

Draco was doing quite well, finding extra time after achieving his spells to help Stiles. And when their classes finally ended, Draco grabbed his arm and led him down a hall, opposite to their common room.

"Uh, where are we going?" he asked, walking faster to keep himself from tripping as Draco dragged him around a corner.

Draco turned, a smile pulling at his lips. "You'll see."

Stiles smiled back, a newfound excitement filling him.

They ran through the empty corridors, Stiles laughing as Draco sped up and tried to lose him, ducking out of sight and reappearing as Stiles rounded the corner.

By the time they stopped, breathless, they had stitches in their sides, from laughing or running to the other side of the school, Stiles wasn't sure.

"We're here," Draco panted, smiling at him.

Stiles looks around. They were still in a hallway, facing a wall, decorative engravings patterning it.

There was noting he could see out of the ordinary.

"And where's 'here,' exactly?"

Draco didn't reply, simply winking and stepping towards the wall.

And then, the wall disappeared.

And a _door_ appeared in it's place.

Draco smirked at his shock and entered the room.

Stiles didn't think he'd ever get used to this magical world.

He followed his friend into the new room.

"This is the Room of Requirement," Draco told him as he looked around. It was quite dark, with a green tinge to it that reminded Stiles of Slytherin. There was a bed in the corner, the covers plush, and a large bookcase scaling the entirety of one wall. "It's a magical room which can only be discovered by someone who is in need. You're in my version of it, Potter had a different room, and so did Dumbledore when he used it."

Stiles turned to Draco, tilted his head. "In need? What do you need?"

Draco grimaced. "Maybe another time," he said, quickly changing the subject. "Point is, no one else can enter here, so the room is all ours. We can get anything we need, food, an extra bed, books, _anything."_

Stiles raised his eyebrows, impressed. "Sick."

"Yeah," Draco agreed. "All you gotta do to enter is find the hallway with the banner, then wish to enter the room. Then it'll open. Easy."

Stiles smiled again, and he realised he hadn't smiled so much in a _long, long,_ time.

The Pack was the last thing on his mind. This was where he belonged. This was where he wanted to be.

Stiles watched as Draco jumped onto his bed, grabbing a book.

Draco, this boy who had only just met him, was welcoming him into his life like they'd been friends for years.

Stiles didn't know what they were, but he liked to think of what they could be.

*******

_**its a lot shorter than the other chapters, but oh welly well** _

**unedited, once again... teehee... and sorta weird... hehe...**


	8. Chapter 8

**IT'D NOW BEEN** a week since Stiles' first day, and nonverbal spells were now expected, not only in Defense Against the Dark Arts, but in his other classes.

He was beginning to get better at them, and he was learning more and more everyday. Draco promised him he would make sure he was caught up before any exams at the end of the year.

He and Draco had spent Wednesday and Thursday in the Room of Requirement, reading, practising spells or just hanging out.

Friday morning was spent with Professor McGonagall in Transfiguration, before they ultimately returned to their hideout.

It was now Saturday, and Stiles and Draco were in the Great Hall for breakfast.

"Quidditch tryouts today," Draco reminded him. "You gonna come?"

Stiles shrugged. "Sure."

He'd never been amazing at team sports, and Lacrosse wasn't exactly his forte, but he'd give it a go for Draco.

Draco smiled.

They made their way outside to the Quidditch field, where a group of green- clad students were already gathered.

"Oi, Flint!" Draco yelled over the chatter. A large and thuggish-looking boy with wonky teeth turned. He saw Draco and approached them.

"Malfoy," he said as he reached them. "You better be trying out again."

"I am. But Stiles here is gonna tryout this year, too."

'Flint' turned to Stiles, seemingly sizing him up. Then he held out his hand, introducing himself. "Marcus Flint."

Stiles reached out and shook it. "Stiles Stilinski."

"Ever seen a game of Quidditch, Stilinski?" he asked, crossing his arms.

He shook his head.

Flint nodded. "Well, we'll give you a quick run-down, and see what'cha got, yeah?"

Draco clapped him on the shoulder. "Let's go get you a broom."

Draco led him down to a small shed by the field, old and rickety. Inside were a hundred brooms, ranging from ancient to new, unkept to clean.

"Flint's captain of the Slytherin team," he explained. "I'm a Seeker, which is the person who has to catch the Snitch."

Draco saw Stiles' look of confusion and laughed. "Maybe it's best if we show you."

Draco helped him pick out a good broom, then took his own shiny one, and led him back to the field. There were less people there then before, only about a dozen.

Flint waved them over. "Okay, Stikinski. Let's see how you are on a broom first."

Draco taught him to pick up the broom with a single command: _Up_ _!_ (He was quite proud to say he got it on the third go.)

Then, he was taught to mount the broom and kick off from the ground. At first, it was wobbly, and Stiles feared he'd fall off, but it steadied out, and Flint nodded in approval.

"Now try move around," Flint instructed from the ground. 

Stiles obliged, turning the broom and leaning forward to make it travel. Draco stuck by his side, ensuring he didn't fall.

He quickly became confident, and in no time he was gliding in and out of the goal posts and and around the field. When he and Draco finally landed back on the ground, Flint shook his head in disbelief.

"You sure you've never ridden a broom?" Flint asked.

He laughed. The thought of riding a broom back in Beacon Hills was audacious. "Pretty sure, yeah."

"Well, I think it's safe to say you can ride well," Draco said. "Now, we'll teach you the rules."

Flint nodded, heading to the centre of the field where an old trunk-like crate sat. Inside, lay four different sized balls, a tiny, a medium sized one, and two identical ones.

"Okay," Flint said. "So, first things first. There are seven players on a team. One is a seeker-" he pointed to Draco- "three are chasers, like me and Graham, one keeper, and two beaters, Bole and Derrick."

Flint took out the smallest ball, a shiny, gold with with silvery wings. "This is the Snitch. It's Draco's job to catch it before the other team, Potter in this case. And it wins one hundred and fifty points, which means the team who gets it will always win."

The Slytherin Captain then took out a dark red ball about the size of a soccer ball. "This is the Quaffle," he said. "The Chasers throw the Quaffle and try to get it through the hoops, which will score 10 points." 

Stiles nodded. "So -that's sort of like lacrosse on broomsticks with six hoops, isn't it?" 

"What's lacrosse?" Flint asked, bewildered.

Stiles grimaced. They obviously didn't know much about the non-wizard in world. "Never mind."

Flint shrugged. "Okay. So, there's a player on each side who's called the Keeper, who have to fly around our hoops and stop the other team from scoring. You got everything so far?"

"Seeker catches the snitch to win, three chasers try and score with the Quaffle, and the Keeper tries to stop the other teams chasers."

"Good. Now," he handed Stiles a small bat-like club. "Beaters use these to hit the Bludgers, which fly around and try to knock players off their brooms. It's the Beaters' job to protect their team from them, and hit them at the other."

Flint pointed to the two identical balls in the trunk. "There they are. I'm not gonna bother getting them out, or else they'll go crazy."

Stiles nodded slowly. It seemed easy enough.

"Well, that's pretty much it. Now, we got two open spaces, keeper and beater. Which one do you wanna try?"

Out of being a goalie, and attacking flying balls on steroids, Stiles had to go with the former.

"Keeper."

Flint nodded. Okay, go up and guard a hoop. I'll try and hit a Quaffle in, and you gotta hit it away."

Stiles got onto his broom and flew to the middle hoop, Draco right behind him.

Flint followed soon after with a Quaffle held in his arm.

"Okay, get ready to hit 'em, yeah?"

Stiles nodded, watching the ball carefully. He'd always been better at goalie in lacrosse, but Danny had always been better, so Stiles either stuck on the field, or on the bench.

Flint pulled his arm back, launching the Quaffle at the hoop. Stiles sped to guard it, hitting the Quaffle away with the end of his broom.

Draco laughed, shoving his arm.

Flint choked on a laugh. "That's- that's pretty good. You swear you've never played?"

"Quite," he replied, surprised himself.

"Let's try again," Flint said, grinning. 

He threw the ball again, and Stiles saved, one, two, three more times. He couldn't believe what he was doing; he'd always sucked at sport, and now, he was saving every shot.

Flint didn't seem to believe it either, but he blew out a breath and laughed. "Well, you're on the team, Stilinski. I'll see you three times a week for practise, yeah?"

Stiles beamed. _He'd made it on the team._

"Stiles!" Draco cried, "you're on!" The laugh he let out made Stiles' heart warm. "I say we get you a new broom. If you're going to be on the team, you need something other than this sad, old thing."

Stiles smiled.

He knew now, for certain, he'd made the right choice in coming here.

*** 

As Draco and Stiles we're walking down the pond, winding path that led back to the castle, his attention was drawn to the small hut out-skirting the forest. The lights inside was glowing, and a puff of smoke floated above. 

"Hey, I'm gonna go visit Hagrid. I haven't seen him in a bit," Stiles said.

Draco stopped, eyeing the hut warily. "I'll come with you," Draco said, an edge to his voice that Stiles couldn't quite decipher.

They diverted off the path towards the old thing, Draco hovering close.

When they stepped up to the door, Stiles knocked. A series of barks sounded, accompanied by scratching at the door.

"Comin'" Hagrid yelled from inside. "Jus' a minute!"

Stiles smiled. He'd missed the guy.

The door swung open a moment later, and Hagrid appeared, large grin on his face.

"Stiles!" Hagrid boomed happily. 

Then his eyes slid to Draco, and they hardened. "Malfoy."

Draco bit his lip, stepping back. "Uh, I'll just wait outside," he said.

Stiles nodded slowly, and Hagrid welcomed him in, narrowed eyes still on Draco.

Inside was a cosy place, pots and pans gathered in a corner, a table in the centre of the room, a friendly dog with a wagging tail. The dog barked again, jumping up on him.

"Fangs, down!" Hagrid scolded, Stiles laughing at Fangs' attempts lick his face.

Fangs obeyed, retreating to a corner where his bed sat.

When the door was shut, Hagrid turned to him. "What're yer doin', hangin' out with tha' boy?" He asked.

Stiles tilted his head in confusion. "Draco? What do you mean? He's my friend."

Hagrid shook his head. "Tha' boy is nothin' but trouble. I advise yer to stay away."

Stiles frowned. "He's nice, I don't know what you're going on about." 

Hagrid shook his head. "How's all yer classes goin'?" he asked, placing a kettle over the fireplace.

"Oh, it's fine. I'm doing pretty well in most of them; Draco has been helping me." 

Hagrid grunted, moving around in the kitchen. 

"I got on the quidditch team, too. Keeper," he told him proudly.

Hagrid smiled. "Good on yer, Stiles!"

Before he could reply, another knock sounded at the door, and Fangs was barking again. Hagrid opened it, and in the gap between his arm and the door, Stiles saw Harry, Hermione, and Ron at the door. 

"Hello!" Hagrid greeted. "I'm feelin' mighty popular, with all these guests," he laughed.

Hagrid invited the three in, and Stiles waved stiffly. He hadn't talked to them since their Potions lesson, and it was only really Hermione who'd spoken to him. 

"Hello, Stiles!" Hermione exclaimed.

Ron and Harry said not a word. 

He cringed. "I should probably get going," he told Hagrid, walking to the door. "Bye, Hermione."

"See you!"

Draco met him outside with a grimace. They didn't say a word as they trudged back to the castle, their shoulder's brushing as they went.

***

  
Two weeks of lessons, homework, and Quidditch practise later, came a trip to somewhere names 'Hogsmeade.'

Stiles woke the morning of the trip early, when outside was still dim, and a storm well on its way.

He passed the time until Draco woke completely a foot long essay for Snape.

By the time Draco had woken, the weather outside was merciless. They covered themselves in warm sweaters, cloaks, scarves, and gloves.

They dropped by the hall and grabbed some toast, before heading towards the castle doors. Other sixth years were heading out as well, and Stiles saw Hermione and the boys in front of another group.

"Stiles, m'boy!" said a jovial voice from behind them.

He and Draco turned to see Professor Slughorn, who was wearing a giant, fluffy hat and the ugliest sweater Stiles had ever seen. Stiles grimaced. 

"Stiles, you've missed all of my parties this semester!" exclaimed Slughorn. Which was true. Stiles had gotten several invitations, all in which he'd purposely avoided. The man gave him bad vibes. "I expect you at the next one, m'boy! Miss Granger loves them, arent you two friends?" 

Stiles found it very hard to believe Hermione actually enjoyed the suppers. "Yes, we are, sir, but-"

"No buts, Stiles! You shall join Miss Granger next Friday, yes?"

"Well, I can't , Professor," he said helplessly. "I've got Quidditch practise then, and since I'm new, I need all the practise I can get."

"Now, now, how about Monday night? You can't possibly be training in this weather." 

In all honesty, Professor Slughorn didn't seem like someone Stiles wanted to know. There was something about him that didn't sit well with him, and he hated to admit it, but he was slightly afraid of the man.

" I don't know," he replied, feeling undeniably small in from of the man. "It's my first year, I think I should focus on-"

"Yes, your first year! You should enjoy it, no?"

Stiles shrunk away. "I can't, Professor, I've got a lot of homework to hand in, I don't think I'll find the time to-" 

"Nonsense!" Slug horn said. "You must-"

Slughorn never finished however, as Draco stepped forward, his wand pointed at the Professor's chest.

"Would you kindly accept 'no' as an answer and fuck off?" He asked, voice dangerously low.

" _Draco!"_ Stiles hissed. "You can't threaten teachers!"

**I honestly hate** **slughorn** **, so we got some bashing, with a bonus of protective draco** **mushahahahaha** **.**

Slughorn narrowed his eyes. "Now, Mr Malloy, careful what you do next."

"I suggest _you_ consider what you do next. He said he can't attend, so leave him alone."

Slughorn took a cautious step back. "I am a _teacher,_ you dare-"

"Shut. Up. I don't care if your the damned minister for magic, you stay away from him."

Slughorn scowled. Then he turned, setting off down the hall. Stiles wondered if he would tell Dumbledore.

Draco pocketed his wand, glaring at the retreating form of the professor.

"Are you mad?" Stiles demanded, taking Draco's arm and dragging him down the hall. "You could get expelled!"

"Well, he wasn't going to leaves you alone, what did you want me to do?"

Stiles opened his mouth to reply, but found he didn't have a response. If Draco hadn't stepped in, he'd have been scheduled to another dinner, and after that, Slughorn would undoubtedly make him go to more. 

Instead of responding, he found himself wrapping his arms around Draco, only thankful for him. "Thank you."

Draco didn't seem to know what to do, awkwardly patting Stiles on the back.

He laughed, letting go, and they continued to the door, Stiles ready to forget everything that just happened.

Filch was standing at the oak front doors, checking off the names of those who had 

permission to go into Hogsmeade. Stiles had sent the permission slip to his father in his last letter, receiving it back a few days prior via Roscoe.

Filch checked him and Draco off, and they began their journey to the town. To say the least, the walk was not the most excitable thing, nor the most enjoyable thing. It was freezing in the snowy weather, and with the storm on the horizon, the wind was horrific. By the time Draco led him into a warm shop called The Three Broomsticks, his fingers felt like they'd fall off at any second.

"C'mon," Draco said, shivering, "we'll get some Butterbeers, then I want to show you something."

Stiles agreed, despite not knowing what Butterbeers were.

Draco ordered two, and Stiles gave him a few coins for his. He waved him off, however, and handing the waitress his own money.

When they're drinks were ready, they ventured back out into the blizzard, sipping on the warm deliciousness that were the Butterbeers.

Draco led him to the edge of the town, towards a snow- covered hill. 

It was deserted, the only movement on it being the waving trees and falling snow. "Are we allowed over here?" He asked, teeth chattering.

Draco smirked. "Definitely not."

Stiles smiled, excitement filling him.

There was an old, decaying house on the hill, hidden from view by the trees, and Draco took him inside. "This is the Shrieking Shack," he said. Stiles looked around. The place was practically falling apart where it stood, walls and floor boards cracking and paint peeling. With each gust of wind and each step, the house creaked loudly. "It's been abandoned for years. People say it's haunted, but that's rubbish."

With everything Stiles experienced in Beacon Hills, haunted houses and abandoned places weren't very scary, and with Draco with him, there wasn't an ounce of fear in him.

They sat down against a splintered wall, drinking the rest of their Butterbeers. Soon enough, a bell sounded from the town, signalling for them to return to the castle.

Walking back to the school, wrapping their cloaks around themselves tighter, the weather slowly got worse and worse, and Stiles longed for the warmth of his bed. But with Draco huddled by his side, their arms linked, he felt that little bit warmer.

***

  
After their trip to Hogsmeade, Draco and Stiles returned to the warmth of the castle.

They were studying, hidden in the comforts and quiet of the Room of Requirement. Stiles lay against a pile of pillows on the green bed, where he was meant to be writing his essay for Potions.

Draco lay on the end of the bed, his feet in Stiles' lap as he read a book. His damp, untidy hair from his recent shower was flattened on his forehead. 

Stiles caught himself staring, at the way Draco's silvery blue eyes moved along the page, the way his chiseled jaw connected to his hollow cheeks, the way-

That was the day he realised.

That was the day he realised he liked Draco Malfoy **.**

***

_**Okay, I'll explain some details.** _  
_**So, Draco is not working for** _ _**Voldemorty** _ _**in this story, so Katie bell didn't get cursed, and all that stuff never happened. This will lead into another thing I got planned** _ _**hehe** _ _**.** _

**_I_ ** **_also_ ** **_wanted_ ** **_to_ ** **_show_ ** **_some_ ** **_Slytherin_ ** **_people_ ** **_in_ ** **_the_ ** **_perspective_ ** **_of_ ** **_another_ ** **_Slytherin_ ** **_._ ** **_Like_ ** **_with_ ** **_Marcus_ ** **_,_ ** **_we_ ** **_all_ ** **_hate_ ** **_him_ ** **_,_ ** **_but_ ** **_that's_ ** **_cause_ ** **_we're_ ** **_viewing_ ** **_him_ ** **_from_ ** **_a_ ** **_gryffindor_ ** **_perspective_ ** **_._ ** **_Yeah_ ** **_,_ ** **_he_ ** **_is_ ** **_mean_ ** **_,_ ** **_but_ ** **_he'd_ ** **_treat_ ** **_other_ ** **_Slytherin_ ** **_better_ ** **_right_ ** **_?_ **  
**_Meh_ ** **_😂_ **

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, i know a lot of this was fast paced, unrealistic (well i mean its fanfiction but yknow) and probably just dragging on and on for 2000 words, but i promise the next chapter will be more interesting! i think... XDDD


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